


Three's Company

by DilynAliceBlake



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: BDSM, Incest, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Voyeurism, remrom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: Someone said "Virgil as Roman's brother," and I though "Well, then he'd be Remus' brother too, since Roman and Remus are twins."And then I wrote this incest fic.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Remus/Virgil/Roman
Comments: 12
Kudos: 109





	Three's Company

“What the hell!” falls out of Virgil’s mouth upon seeing his older brothers kissing in the dining room, but the way his voice peaks and wavers is more telling than he’d like.

The twins freeze at his early arrival home- They were clearly too caught up in each other to have heard the door. Roman starts to try and explain away their compromising position, but Remus has clearly spotted the blush on Virgil’s face.

“Easy there, Ro-Ro,” Remus says, alight with mischief, “I don’t think little Virge is terribly put off by the sight.”

Virgil goes to put up the hood of his jacket automatically, but no sooner has he reached for it then Remus has crossed the room in three long strides to take place behind him and start petting his chest.

“Remus, I’m not sure that this course is the most wise,” Roman tries, but the way he bites his lip implies that wisdom might not be the deciding factor of whatever decision they come to.

The twins have always had an easy understanding between them, and Virgil can almost tell what Remus is thinking just by the looks on Roman’s face as he reacts.

“Are you sure?” Roman asks in response to a question Remus hasn’t bothered to voice, and Virgil can’t quite stifle his moan as Remus’ hand creeps lower.

“Baby brother is quite naughty,” Remus croons in Virgil’s ear, and it’s clearly just as much if not more for Roman than for him. That doesn’t detract from the arousal pacing through him. Virgil has always known that his brothers were attractive, and despite his best tries, that knowledge didn’t stay objective.

“Virgil,” Roman takes on the regal tone his voice gets when he feels like what he’s saying is important. “Do you object to this in any way? You need to tell us now, before we get carried away.”

“Frotting in the dining room in plain view wasn’t already carried away?” Virgil snarks, snippish and defensive as always. He gets teeth sinking into his throat for the trouble, and moans lewdly at the sudden pain.

“A masochist,” Remus whispers, enraptured at the thought of all the ways he could hurt him.

Roman seems less sure, but relaxed by the pain, a heavy lidded Virgil nods.

“I’ll tell you if you need to stop,” he growls, voice low like they’ve neither before heard it, and Roman’s face slacks with lust.

“You have the best ideas,” Roman compliments, clearly ignoring Virgil again to address Remus. Usually the way they talk over him would be annoying, but now all it does is call him deeper into subspace.

He wobbles and his arms twitch, but with Remus behind him, he can’t clamp them behind his back, and he doesn’t want to kneel without some kind of indication he should since the hands are still stroking him.

“How do you want me?” he rumbles, and when there’s a beat where they don’t answer, Virgil adds a gravelly “ _ Sirs _ ?”

That’s enough of a kick in the pants that they’re all certainly on the same page about how things are about to go. Roman breathes “Holy shit,” at the same time that Remus yells “Fuckity-Hell-Bitch!” in surprise. The sudden boldness and implied subservience when he’s usually so surly take Remus out of the game half a moment longer. That’s plenty of time for Roman to order Virgil to strip and Virgil to start doing it.

He doesn’t check if they want to go somewhere more private. They were in the dining room before, after all, and the potential of being seen then hadn’t stopped them.

Remus circles around to the front to watch him undress; but stays just within arms reach, still occasionally petting as more and more skin is revealed. Roman flinches at the loud smack when Remus slaps him, but it isn’t hard enough to leave a lasting mark. It’s loud, more than anything, likely pinking a bold handprint onto Virgil’s skin that will be gone by morning. If it’s not, then he has enough makeup to cover it up. 

“What,” Roman utters softly, but he doesn’t object, and Remus clearly has enough of a measure of Virgil’s interests by now that he’s slipped into his own headspace.

“I love Ro-Ro, but he only plays rough outside the bedroom. A romantic at heart, not that I usually mind it,” he adds a playful wink at a wide eyed Roman to the tease. “Color?”

“Green,” Virgil says, quick and clear. He’s rewarded with a firm grip in his hair dragging him abruptly into Remus’ embrace.

“Beg me to hurt you,” Remus hisses, “Tell me what you want most in the world right now.”

“Bracelet,” Virgil answers, too fast to even pretend he’s never thought about how he’d like Remus to hurt him before. Wrapped thrice around Remus’ wrist is a long studded strip of leather that functions as a punk fashion statement to the average looker and a constant tease to Virgil.

“I want you to whip me with it.”

Roman makes a noise at that somewhere between distress and arousal, but he hardly has cause to argue when Virgil is the one asking for it. Remus smiles in a way that has made others back down from fights and makes a gesture that makes immediately clear he wants Virgil to present himself. Virgil waits until he finishes unwinding the bracelet from its place and snaps it sharply before turning to face the wall, legs shoulder width apart and arms bracing him.

“Tell me,” Remus implores, barely holding onto restraint by a string, “When the color changes.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Virgil rumbles, anticipatory, “To make me bleed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby boy,” Remus assures.

“ _Dios mio_ ,” Roman utters, before the first strike hits and Virgil is lost to the bliss.


End file.
